Lot 613, for those of you not yet familiar with it, is one of the hot artist complex spaces in downtown Los Angeles that has played host to several multimedia parties over the past year or so. Nestled in near the L.A. River, just off the 6th Street bridge, the place has an airy industrial atmosphere to it, so typical of the many spaces in the slowly reviving areas that lie outside of the upward-thrusting downtown skyline, where entrepreneurs have been renovating the old wasted buildings, converting them into lofts, cafes, small businesses and art studios. Far away from the mainstream Hollywood scene, and just dingy enough to maintain its underground credibility, 613’s relatively distant locale ensures that infiltration by poseurs and wannabes is highly unlikely for the time being. Thus, it’s an ideal location for electronic music events that recall the time before the establishment of the slick, polished ultra-lounge mentality so dominated by the likes of Drai’s, the Playhouse and the like. A place where the truly dedicated dance music fanatic can come down and dress and party to their heart’s content without having to worry about ridicule or judgment. Back in the day, that was known as raving—which is why 613 was the logical choice for this gig that saw the resurrection of a Southern California old-school rave tradition: the Funky Techno Tribe reunion. For one night only, the old beloved warriors of the beats re-congregated to rock the house just as they had done during the rave revolution.
In fact, true to form, the rave vibe was represented in one of its less than desirable facets: the abrupt shuffling of set times (and an early truncation of the night in general), which meant that stalwarts like Jason Blakemore didn’t even get the chance to get behind the decks. Little matter though, since the night went on anyway, and those who made it down were all the more pleased because of it. Local lovely DJ Eva started the good times off right in the outside courtyard, adjacent to the live mural painting collaboration between artists John Park, Michael Pukac, MereOne and Krystle Smith that proceeded to attract admirers throughout the night. If they weren’t inclined to ogle the artwork, though, the fans had plenty to choose from—three rooms full, to be precise. The night really got moving around 11:30, when the immortal DJ Dan climbed up to the main(?) stage and proceeded to demonstrate just why he’s still a rave fave, even ten-plus years after That Zipper Track. Total lift-off, no apologies offered, or necessary. Meanwhile, back outside, Jeno from the vaunted Wicked Crew was holding court, introducing to the younger members of the audience the reason why his old-school sound still makes the earth move under one’s feet—kind of like a beloved dance music Allosaurus who refuses to surrender to extinction (thank God!). He was followed by another blast from the past—the one and only Freaky Flow, who flew the DnB flag high and proud this night, warming up those who chose to brave the chill air.
But if the night truly belonged to anyone, it was the one and only Donald Glaude. Let me make this as clear as I possibly can—this man is so funky, so bad, so funked up, that if I was awarded the task of selecting any DJ who could get a crowd up and pumping in five minutes or less, it would be Donald. With the possible exception of Carl Cox, there is no-one who works harder behind the mixer, urging and pushing the crowd to match the joyous intensity that he’s feeling. There’s no gradual build-up, no dips in the ambiance, just hyped up, thumping house right from the get-go that gets higher and harder as the night goes on. I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again: Donald Glaude is probably the closest thing to James Brown that house music has to offer—except that instead of screeching “Ow! I feel good”, he sweeps the crowd up even more directly and primally with his familiar war cry that never gets old: “MAKE SOME FUCKING NOISE!!!!!” And predictably, that’s exactly what the happy campers on the dance floor did—and they would have gleefully roared for a lot longer, had the lights not been turned on at 2:00 to cut the reunion short. Yeah, you’re right, there’s definitely something wrong with that, disappointing a crowd that was just beginning to kick into top gear. Still, it was better than nothing, even though it ended up being a case of dancus interruptus. So keep your eyes on 613, folks, because this definitely won’t be the last time this place becomes the center of a good time.
Leave A Comment!